Unit 1: Vocabulary from Readings 1

Some people choose their dogs, and some dogs choose their people. The Pengelly family had no say in the choosing of Lob; he came to them in the second way, and very decisively.

But Lob, as if trying to atone for the surprise he had given her, went on licking the sand off Sandy’s face, wagging his tail so hard while he kept on knocking up more clouds of sand.

Then she saw the train slide away out of sight around the next headland, with a melancholy wail that sounded like Lob’s last good-bye.

But Aunt Rebecca was not interested in dogs; she did not inquire about him.

Just as she reached the main entrance the guard was gently but forcibly shoving out a large, agitated, soaking-wet Alsatian dog.

“Hey, minister’s kid!” we’d taunt. “Dare you to...” and we’d challenge him to do something, you know, really gross.

“He’s delirious.”
“Delirious?” Matt said. “What’s that?”
“Sort of...crazy.”

The old man gave a start, made a convulsive twitch as his eyes positively bulged.

“Son, here is a sick man who needs to unburden himself of the unhappy things he’s done. I know your reputation. Are you fearful of hearing what Mr. Bataky has to say for himself?”

Matt gave us an imploring look. There was nothing we could do.

It was an old large galvanized pot she had picked up at an army surplus store in Santa Maria.

The pot had many dents and nicks, and the more dents and nicks it acquired the more Mamá liked it.

All I could hear was the drone of insects.

Instinctively, Roberto and I ran and hid in the vineyards.

I woke up early that morning and lay in bed, looking at the stars and savoring the thought of not going to work and of starting sixth grade for the first time that year.